


Glass

by stardropdream



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They waited, unable to reach one another, but always believing and hoping for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ June 14, 2009.

It was strange to be in that silence for so long. While the world continued on beyond them, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and the beating of her own heart. That in of itself was comforting, because how could she ever begrudge the tokens of her continuing life? But seeing him on the other side of the glass, watching how he breathed, knowing how his heart was beating—and yet being unable to hear it. That was possibly the worse of all.   
  
She would press her hands against the glass panel, and he would mimic her. Hands mirroring one another, it was almost as if they could feel the warmth between them, despite being separated by that glass slab.   
  
Sometimes, she’d manage a shaky smile, some kind of assurance that yes, it wouldn’t end like this. Though it was painful, it would be okay. And he would smile back—let her know that he’d heard her.   
  
She’d sit on her knees in front of that panel for hours, ignoring the pain of sitting for too long, the pain of not moving, the pain of being _stuck_ and hoping for the safety of those who were beyond that glass tube, the pain of being unable to touch him after being gone from him for so long.   
  
She’d smile, and he’d return her smile, though with each passing day the corners frayed and the bags under their eyes deepened as they waited, waited, waited.   
  
She pressed her forehead against the glass, but not daring to close her eyes. He hesitated, his fingers curling into small fists against her splayed fingers. Her heart lurched as he leaned forward, pressing and leaning forward until his nose was bumping against the glass, and he shifted his head from side to side, as if trying to reassure her but still being unable to reach her.   
  
But she would not cry. So she managed a watery smile and closed her eyes, trying to imagined the warmth radiating off him, knowing that they would make it through, and that those outside this world were working and growing and changing.   
  
When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her, his fingers uncurled again and pressing against her palms. He whispered something—or he could have been shouting, she could not hear those words—but she knew the words instantly because they settled in her heart and filled her side of the panel with such immense warmth that it was all she could do to nod and repeat his words, watching the way his face, in turn, softened, and knew that their hearts were in direct reflection to one another, and always would be.   
  
They waited.


End file.
